


On The Discovery Channel

by Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Cannibalism, F/F, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Minor Character Death, Multi, Orgy, Threesome - F/F/M, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-01 17:37:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5214677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw/pseuds/Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of unrelated/standalone ficlets based on the mating habits of the animal kingdom. </p>
<p>Each chapter will be its own fic; see chapter notes for pairings/kinks. Tags will be updated with each chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Praying Mantis, Vastra/Moriarty

**Author's Note:**

> So, as I'm reading through the book on animal sexytimes, I come across the praying mantis. I think to myself: "Hmm, who else do I know who is green, angular, and likes to eat men?" The rest, as they say, is history.

Many of the common descriptors attached to Madame Vastra were not, strictly speaking, true. Lizard woman, yes; dawn of time, no. The universe had been bubbling along for untold trillions of years before her civilization had reached its height. Detective, yes; samurai, no: skilled with a blade though she might be, she preferred her own moral code to the Japanese bushido. Married to a woman, yes; lesbian, no. Though she preferred the company of her own sex, she was not averse to the idea of sharing her bed with a male on occasion. Such as when work demanded it. Such as now.

Uncovering the identity of the man behind the better part of the criminal conspiracies in this third of the globe had been a long and arduous process, costing all three of them many months of the utmost exertion. By contrast, wooing Professor James Moriarty into bed had been child's play in comparison, and the bedding itself merely strenuous.

“I note that you are not offended by my appearance,” Vastra begins her closing gambit, drawing a heavy robe about her.

“Not at all,” Moriarty assures her. He sips from the tea which Jenny had brought in, moments ago.

“You are used to dealing with non-humans, then?” she queries, already knowing the answer.

“I should have thought that would be obvious, given how closely you have been pursuing me since this past April.” He smiles, leaning back against the headboard, as he takes another sip of his tea. “Just a twist of lemon—just the way I like it.”

“I am somewhat astonished that you agreed to meet me for such an intimate rendezvous,” Vastra confesses, drinking from her own cup. 

“But my dear Vastra, how else could I be assured of knowing your precise location at a time of my choosing? And in a place with such nice windows, as well?”

“Colonel Moran's presence was anticipated,” Vastra replies lazily, giving two swift tugs on the bell-pull. In response to her cue, Strax's laser rifle silently dispatches Moriarty's sniper. “His lack of observation sealed his fate, as, indeed, your lack of observation will seal yours.”

“Perhaps I should go,” Moriarty's voice grows strained as he sets his teacup down on the nightstand.

“Certainly you should; however, I do not think you can.” Vastra's smile grows and she stands, crossing over to her erstwhile nemesis. “You see, what you failed to notice is that there is no lemon on that tray. What you taste, instead, is a fast-acting paralytic.” She places a tender kiss on his forehead, above his questioning eyes. “Which has no effect on my species. Still, you should have switched our cups: I season mine with arsenic.” His eyes widen. “Which would have killed you far more quickly than I shall. Jenny,” she calls. “Do we still have that recipe for monkey brains?”


	2. Stick Insect, Twelve/Clara/River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stick insects mate for weeks at a time. Who knew?

“Not bad for a stick insect,” Clara says once she's finally gotten him out of his kit, and River can't help but laugh at her husband.

“Did you know,” he replies, somehow droll with anger, “that the stick insect is, in fact, famous for its sexual stamina?”

“I had no idea,” River replies breezily, with a broad wink at Clara.

 

Eight hours later...

 

“Why didn't you stop me?” the young English teacher pants. She's drenched with sweat, her hair is in utter disarray, and she's pretty sure she's stopped looking anything close to sexy somewhere around hour three. None of this has slowed the Doctor, who only looks a bit mussed, but might just be slowing down.

“Would you have believed me if I had warned you?” River asks, faring a bit better at human-plus and still able to form a complete sentence. “And would you really have wanted me to?” she adds salaciously.

For fuck's sake, Clara thinks, is she still capable of sounding flirty? “Okay, no,” she manages. Her few remaining synapses put two and two together. “You knew?”

“Spoilers,” she trills.

“Any chance of a lukewarm bath?” Clara asks, now that's she's had a chance to catch her breath. “I think I've forgotten what it feels like not to have a gob of come in my hair.”

“Say it,” the Doctor instructs her. 

She glares at him. “Seriously?” His eyebrow twitches. Fine, she thinks. “You win. Now. Bath.” she commands.


	3. Bottlenose Dolphin, Nine/Jack/Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently two or more male bottlenose dolphins will team up to woo a single female dolphin, including in homosexual activity. Now, who does that sound like...

Rose's head is starting to swim as Jack and the Doctor pull her along, pointing out the sights and showing her things in shop windows. She hasn't exactly been keeping track of everything, since they started out in a bar, browsed their way through a bazaar (where she thinks she may have eaten some kind of faintly aphrodisiac cookie), stumbled across what she is almost certain is the local red-light district, and had now gotten caught up in a street festival. With more to drink on offer, apparently. Her throat runs dry and she takes another pull at the bottle she's been given, strong, fruity, with a bitter undercurrent. She rather thinks she's getting used to it when they pull up outside a relatively tall mud-brick building. “Are we on a carousel?” she asks giddily. She laughs to think how far she's come since Platform One. 

The Doctor flashes a blue light in her eyes—the sonic screwdriver, she realizes, mostly concealed in those big hands of his. “Good,” he says brusquely. “Just playing a bit more drunk than you actually are.”

Something about his tone sobers her up a bit. “How do you mean?” she asks. She's no Time Lord, but she thinks she can feel a Big Question coming up.

“You see,” the Doctor begins, “Jack and I had been doing some negotiations. About you.”

“'s that what they're calling it these days?” Jack flirts back, and Rose can't help but grin, comfortable again in their presence and the buzz of the alcohol.

“Wait, what?” Rose asks. She's no Einstein at the best/soberest of times, but she speaks innuendo perfectly well.

“We wanted to make sure we weren't going to muck things up,” the Doctor tries to explain, “with the three of us.” He glares at Jack, feeling certain that the con-man has tipped their hand, ruined their tactics.

“So you just figured you'd steal off together,” Rose surmises. “Right, nothing wrong with that. Two big strong blokes from the future.” 

“My dear Rose,” and Jack lays on all of his considerable charm, “what we were discussing was how best to pursue you.”

“Oh.” Hasn't quite sunk in yet, not with Jack taking her hand in his.

“And, well, one thing led to another.” The Doctor's cough cuts Jack off.

“Oh!” The pieces slowly began clicking into place for her.

“If you can put up with us, that is,” the Doctor says, almost succeeding in sounding nonchalant.

“And so you soften me up first, then drag me to a sleazy motel?” Rose surmises. Both men splutter as Rose just smirks and purloins the psychic paper from the Doctor's pocket. “Come on then; show me how you negotiate.”


	4. Spotted Hyena, Eleven/River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Female spotted hyenas are socially and sexually dominant, and have a psuedo-penis through which the males must inveigle themselves. Now, who might wear something like that...

“Well, Doctor Song,” the Doctor says contentedly, flopping onto his belly, “I think we've tried everything in the book.” Their last trip had turned into a rescue mission for the great library of the Burfenian Dynasty before it was consumed as the palace burned. 

Granted, they had helped spark the revolution against the corrupt dynasty. “But books!” the Doctor had said, and River had yet to refuse him anything (other than a hat) when this babyface was wearing its best puppy-dog eyes. And so they had liberated the better part of the library, or stolen it, depending on who you asked. And if one of the tomes had been a sex manual of exceptional deviousness...

“Not everything,” River says, skimming the index. No, no, no: not enough tentacles, too many bones. “Oh!” she says delightedly. “I think I have one of those.” 

“River?” he asks his wife's retreating posterior. Not that it wasn't a fine ass, but he couldn't help but be worried as she rummages through boxes in their closet. He lies defensively on his belly.

She comes back wearing something which looks suspiciously like the offspring of a fleshlight and a strap-on harnessed to her hips. “Roll over, dear,” she orders, and even though he yelps, he can't help but obey.


	5. Whiptail Lizard, Jenny/Vastra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whiptails are all-female species of lizards which reproduce via parthenogenesis. Despite not needing to, they typically engage in female/female sex acts. Possibly it helps with the egg-laying; maybe it's just a good time.
> 
> Yes, yes, I know, there are plenty of male Silurians. But some things are too good to pass up. For instance, Jenny and Vastra having little green babies together. I envision this as being sort of an emergency/auxiliary form of reproduction.

“Jenny,” Vastra asks with what she hopes is a delicate tone and phrasing, “Would you care for offspring?”

Jenny splutters her tea across the table. Vastra curses under her breath. Not delicate enough.

“I know we were thinking of adopting,” Jenny replies. “But I take it that's not what you meant.”

Vastra explains the basics, and they send Strax on a series of long, complicated errands. 

“How does this work, exactly?” Jenny asks, nervously adjusting the double-ended dildo, seating it just the way she likes it.

“You penetrate me,” Vastra recites clinically. “This stimulates my body to fertilize some of its eggs.”

“And then a year later...” Jenny trails off, but Vastra just nods over her shoulder. “And they'll be biologically ours. Or yours, at least.”

“Any children we raise are ours,” Vastra reminds her. She doesn't say anything about artificial insemination—her wife has enough on her mind at the moment. She can sense Jenny nod, and braces herself as she fills her, covering her. She loves this, the heat, the pressure, the slide of slick skin against smooth scales. Loves being utterly fucked by her wife. “Yes,” she hisses. Something deep and primordial begins to stir within her, not her wife's wet heat but her own oily orgasm as Jenny's toy slides in and out. She moans and mutters and curses and prays her wife doesn't make her beg, even as she is pressed against the mattress, yielding to thrust after thrust. She feels Jenny's burning hands, pressing down on her shoulder and arm, making her hips rise up lustfully. “Harder,” she cries despite herself, and her love obliges her, even as Vastra's nails leave runs in the sheets. 

She feels Jenny's rhythm peak and shudder as she comes, and her wife lies atop her, heat bleeding from her body. “So how does that work for the other woman?” Jenny asks.

“Usually, her mate will reciprocate in the next breeding cycle,” Vastra replies, and Jenny just grins smugly.


	6. Sea Hare, everyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Probably slightly AU in that it makes the assumption that Clara moves onto the TARDIS after Last Christmas, but seriously, that episode, can you blame me?
> 
> Also, Sea Hares are hermaphroditic mollusks which engage in long mating chains.

An alarm sounds in the TARDIS. Clara wrinkles her nose. She only just agreed to start living with the Doctor full-time yesterday, but after two Doctors and plenty of shorter trips, she'd thought she would have heard them all by now. But it isn't the Cloister Bell, or the collision alert, or even the laundry. Which reminds her, she needs to move a load out of the washer. She sticks a bit of ribbon in her book, spares a guilty look at the marking she's been putting off, and leaves the library.

She finishes hanging up her laundry, because of course there's a backyard inside the TARDIS, and goes off in search of the Doctor because that bloody alarm is still going. She finally finds him, checking the fault locator. “Everything seems to be functional,” he announces. Typical bloke, she thinks. As if they hadn't shagged last night—was it still Boxing Day?

“Then why is there an alarm?” she asks, following him out to the console room. “More importantly, why haven't you said hello?” she tacks on, arms akimbo.

“Hello,” he replies obliviously. He pulls around a screen and taps a few buttons, and then, as if in delayed reaction, pulls Clara into a kiss and favors her with a surprisingly undignified grin. “We've got enough!”

“Alarm bells? Space? Chocolate?” She seriously doubts that one.

“People,” he informs her, just this side of raving. “I set up a calculation a few centuries ago, ideal angles and spacing.” Yes, definitely in a manic phase, cooling off now. “Just need to...” he slowly stops speaking, and, before Clara can even guess, slaps a series of switches, sending them hurtling through space and time.

“Is this some sort of ritual?” Clara asks as he leads her to a large room, comfortably lit, with a circle inscribed upon the floor and divided into arcs. 

“Only in some cultures,” the Doctor not-explains. All around them, what looks to be every previous inhabitant of the TARDIS slowly filters into the room. Most of them Clara recognizes, either from her own hazy memories or from the TARDIS data banks. “Friends, selves, lovers,” the Doctor begins.

The crowd hoots and hollers at this, and Clara can distinctly hear 'the mind races' and 'hello' through the din. Good lord, she thinks, he's hosting an orgy.

“It was many centuries ago that we started out on this little spirit of adventure,” he begins, running his hands down his cardigan with glee. “And I started running a little background program in the TARDIS which would gather its full-time inhabitants for a perfectly calibrated...”

“Circle fuck,” Jack interjects. “I gotta say, Doc, I'm impressed.”

“Do I really?” asks the youngest Doctor. “Hmm!” He looks thoughtfully at his companions, who look somewhat dubiously at him. “I'll have you know—”

Peri coughs. “Could we please do us all a favor and start getting out of our clothes? Especially this one?” She elbows the brightly-dressed Doctor in the middle.

“Hear, hear,” calls Captain Jack Harkness, who is already holding his boots in one hand and his trousers in the other. 

***

“Barbara, are you sure about this?” Ian asks. “I mean, Susan's one of our students...”

“I'm not actually fifteen, you know,” Susan tells them. “And if it makes you feel any better, I'll go to the other side of the room.” With that, she shrugs her way out of her overalls and pads over to Harry and Sarah Jane in a light tunic and her underthings.

***

“Doctor?” Jamie asks. Not his own, but another small, scruffy fellow, and a fellow Scotsman to boot. “I'm feeling a bit uncomfortable.”

“To be fair,” the Doctor gestures out at the ringing bodies. “Or it could be the aphrodisiac mist the TARDIS is venting into the room.” Jamie's eyes widen. “It seemed like a good idea at the time...”

“Does that mean what I think it means?” 

“Don't worry, it can't make you do anything you don't want to do; I carefully calibrated the dose. But it will encourage you to do certain things that you do want. Leela, perhaps, or Turlough. And the same for them.”

Jamie's rational mind struggles to remember something that Zoe and the Doctor had been discussing once, something to do with the ethics of consent. Well, he decided, if the Doctor said it was alright, it was probably fine. It was when he said something was safe you had to worry. Thus resolved, he takes a place between Turlough and Vicki.

“You should probably use protection, though,” the Doctor admonishes.

Jamie scrunches up his face with confusion. “I dinnae think the wee lassie would take too kindly to me buckler or me dirk, Doctor.” Vicki just rolls her eyes and reaches under his kilt with a condom. “That's no' sheepskin,” he observes.

“You said it, not me,” Vicki jokes. “Come on, I think we're almost ready,” she says, tugging a naked Martha Jones into place.

***

As the ring closes, the Time Lords of the group seem most comfortable as minds open. “Do you feel...something?” Rory asks hesitantly. “Feels a bit like my wedding night, actually.”

Romana blinks at him. “I expect that will be the TARDIS getting involved. She is psychic, after all. And she does enjoy a good time.”

“I, erm, suppose that makes sense,” he agrees, and abandons himself to the pulsing of the group.

***

Clara wakes up an unspecified period of time later, curled up on the floor, smelling strongly of sex and faintly of Nyssa's perfume. “Doctor?” she calls, sitting up. Annoyingly, the stick insect is already wearing a t-shirt and plaid slacks again. “No chance of getting you into a kilt?” He snorts derisively. “So, is that going to happen again?” she asks. “Kind of liked it.”

“It's possible that there might be other, equally suitable numbers of people, depending on the arrangements,” he allows, a twinkle in his eye. 

“Good,” she says determinedly. “Now let's have an adventure. As soon as I can feel my legs again. And have had a wash.”


	7. Bonobos, everyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU in which humans are somewhat more related to bonobos and somewhat less related to chimps

“You know, Martha,” the Doctor observes as Jo Grant gives him a warm kiss on the cheek. “Humans' closest genetic relatives are bonobos.”

“Every one knows that, Doctor,” Martha says, greeting Harry Sullivan with a grope of his ass. “Their sexual freedom is regularly cited as part of their higher development and intelligence, understanding that cooperation and mutual pleasure are more successful than ruthless competition. Bio 201.” She looks at him suspiciously: even the Doctor isn't usually this patronizing.

“But did you know their second closest relatives are chimpanzees, which are actually extremely violent creatures, regularly raping and murdering one another?” the Doctor adds, slipping a few fingers into Tegan's pussy. 

Martha's jaw drops, and she apologizes to Jamie, whose cock has fallen out of her mouth. “That sounds dreadful!”

He nods his head in agreement, or maybe it's just that he was grinding against Rory's ass. “Probably a lot fewer of us would survive,” the nurse interjects.

“He'd certainly have to spend a lot more of his time solving the universe's problems, and a lot less of it entertaining the lot of us,” Ace opines, her hands reaching under Martha's blouse to cup her breasts. 

“Mmm,” Martha agrees, watching Steven and Clara vie for Liz Shaw's attention. “I suppose there's only so much you can do with a ship full of attractive people.”


End file.
